Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
I ache to believe him, but years of guilt are too heavy to dispel with a few words.
His body flexes around me. “If I could kill Carter myself, I would’ve done it a thousand times over. I would’ve made it slow.”
I shiver at the memory of Carter’s blank, lifeless stare.
“Does that scare you?” Brandon asks. “That I want to make him scream for trying to rape you? For tearing us apart for years?”
I shake my head and lean into him. “I’m not scared of you. But he’s not the only one who separated us. You should’ve come back to me so much sooner. You should’ve told me the truth years ago. I wouldn’t have cared what you looked like. Nothing would’ve changed how I felt about you.”
He tenses. “But your feelings are changed now?”
I hold him tighter, even as I admit, “I’m scared to trust you again.”
His elegant fingers trail through my hair. “I know. You need time. I understand you, Karolina.”
Yes, he understands me like no one else.
It’s terrifying how badly I want to tell him I still love him. That I’ve always loved him.
But he’ll have to earn my trust back. No matter how desperately I want to be with Brandon—the first love I thought I lost forever—I can’t simply tear down the protective walls around my heart. They’re too solid to crumble so easily; they’re all that’s kept me safe and able to function ever since my parents died.
I become aware of warmth on my shoulder. It’s not my own tears.
Brandon is still bleeding.
I hurt him. Again.
My heart twists, and I force myself to pull away from the miracle of his embrace.
“You’re hurt,” I murmur, gently brushing his cut brow.
He leans into my touch rather than flinching away from the pain.
“We need to clean this up,” I insist. “You should see a doctor.”
He fixes me with a steady, mismatched stare. “We’re not leaving this estate until I eliminate whoever is threatening you. I have a first aid kit at the house. I know how to patch myself up.”
I get to my feet, taking his hands to pull him up along with me. “Then let’s go back. You’re still bleeding.”
“I’ve had far worse,” he reassures me, his hand caging mine as he starts to walk out of the woods with me. “I probably won’t even need stitches.”
I fix him with a no-nonsense look. “You were unconscious for a few minutes. That’s dangerous, Brandon.”
To my shock, he grins despite the pain he must be experiencing. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say my name. I thought I’d never hear it again.”
“And whose fault is that?” I challenge gently. “I’m so relieved that you’re alive, but I won’t forget what you did so easily. You pretended to be someone else. I’m still processing it.”
His thumb rubs my palm in reassurance. “I know. I’ll earn your trust again. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
That should scare me, but it doesn’t. I don’t want to lose sight of him now that I know he’s Brandon.
He’s alive.
It’s the most disconcerting miracle I ever could’ve imagined.
11
BRANDON
Karolina is my miracle. She said my name. My real name.
No one has called me Brandon in years.
I’ve been Ragnarök, a monster in the shadows.
I’ve been her masked man, Bones.
For her, I became Rand.
As she said, I might’ve won her heart in time with my new identity as her professor. But nothing could compare to hearing my name in her melodic voice.
I’ve been a coward not to tell her who I really am. A fool to deceive her.
I’m still not willing to reveal the extent of my violent past. Even when we were teenagers, I was too scared to confess the taint in my blood that makes me a cold, unfeeling killer.
She’s purity and light.
And I’ve reached for her with blood-soaked hands.
I’m a bastard for letting her suffer with guilt over my “death”. I can’t regret what I’ve done to have her, but I do regret that. I never want to cause her pain, but she’s been haunted by nightmares of what she did to me all this time.
An accident, I remind myself.
She didn’t do anything to me. The damage to my face was ultimately Carter’s fault. And my own for trying to shove the shotgun away rather than explaining myself.
Still, I can’t deny that part of me has feared that she meant to do it all along.
Her obvious regret over the damage she caused has soothed a wound inside me that I’ve been denying ever since that dark night in the burning stables.
She squeezes my hand as we enter the house, my sweet girl reassuring me despite the pain I’ve caused her with my lies.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” she asks, eyes tight with concern.
“In the bathroom upstairs. Why don’t you go to the kitchen while I clean up? You should eat something.”